


Tipping Velvet

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Denial, M/M, Slavery, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shockwave gets his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tipping Velvet

**Author's Note:**

> Another old fic.

“Step lively, now,” Shockwave warned mildly, pushing Blurr towards the berth. Blurr stumbled, awkwardly managing to catch himself, despite both hands being cuffed firmly behind his back. Sauntering around him, Shockwave hummed a low note. He hooked one servo behind his Autobot’s neck, pulling him up after himself onto the berth before sprawling back luxuriously. Blurr did not struggle or even speak, but looked pointedly away. It was ignored; Shockwave spread his thighs wide, reclining against the wall. 

“Come on then.” The soft drawl was punctuated by a single servo curling back on itself, beckoning. At any other time, Blurr would have been tempted to make some snide remark, no matter how futile. He currently found himself unable, as early on in his arrival as a captive of the Decepticon army his vocal synthesizer had been disabled. Under the circumstances, the best Blurr could do was avert his eyes, only moving when Shockwave gripped the fin adorning his helm and jerked him forward. Blurr tried not to respond and was once again rewarded with a mean tug, this time propelling him down against Shockwave’s crotch. 

Fighting back fits of panic, Blurr attempted to shake free, just briefly. Shockwave patiently waited it out, finally gripping hard enough to crush the fin down, nearly flattening it against Blurr’s helm. Still trapped with his cheek against the pitch plating of Shockwave’s interface panel, Blurr cycled short gusts of air, trying to remain grounded. The servos on his helm patted him lightly, like a pet, and his fuel tanks churned in unpleasant familiarity. 

“Alright, now, settle down,” the words were quiet, but laced with smug certainty. “You know what is expected of you.”

Shockwave’s interface panel retracted, but unlike all the previous times they had been thusly engaged, his second panel was the one exposed, baring his valve. It was just beginning to glisten with lubricant, violet glow emanating from the dotted ring of lights circling the rim. Dark and neat, just like the rest of him.

 Blurr stared dumbly at it. He had never been presented with this part of Shockwave’s equipment before. The silence spanned for a few seconds before Shockwave sighed, a deep huff of static buzzing through his vocalizer. 

“Really now,” he chided, firmly reinstating his grip upon Blurr’s helm, “Must I give you specific directions for _everything_?”

 Increasing the pressure of his grip, his third servo wrapped around Blurr’s neck, temporarily cutting off several main fuel lines. His processor swam almost instantly, white light flashing across his field of vision.

“Get to work.” The grip softened, and Blurr panted dryly, shuttering his vents. He got another harsh tug and found himself again flat against Shockwave’s crotch, this time in contact with his open valve. Lubricant smeared across his faceplates and he shuttered his optics in shame. Unwilling to suffer more, Blurr parted his lips and extended his glossa. 

He lapped stiffly at the outer lips, wetting it where it had not been touched yet by Shockwave’s fluids. He was quick, as always, but lacked his usual finesse. It was the bare minimum contact he felt could pass as obedience, but even then he knew it was a stretch. A stretch he hoped would suffice. Refusing to so much as survey his work, Blurr continued this way for several kliks.

 Shockwave was unimpressed. 

“Blurr,” he spoke levelly, as always, but punctuated his point by jerking Blurr’s head back without warning, “is this really the best you can do?”

The sudden movement caused Blurr to cough, little fuzzy bursts of sound attempting to escape from his disabled vocals. He bared his dental grill, as if in defiance, but it was all show. Blurr was terrified. 

Looking Shockwave in the optic for the first time that night, Blurr tried to convey his distaste wordlessly. However, he didn’t have much time to compose himself before two of Shockwave’s claws shoved into his mouth, pinching his glossa and drawing it out between his lips. 

Blurr’s first reaction was instinctive; he tried to pull back. This was a mistake. Luckily for them both, Shockwave was used to handling the Autobot and managed not to pierce the thin mesh of his tongue, but it still hurt like the Pit. Blurr, embarrassingly, whined, holding his mouth open awkwardly while trying to look up without further damaging himself. Shockwave rolled the appendage between his claw tips for a second, enjoying the way Blurr twitched but still held his position. His cooling fans thrummed happily. 

“I know you can do better than that,” he cooed, circling the tip of his servo around the top of the mesh. 

“I’ve seen that mouth put to better use.”

He dragged his servos free from Blurr’s glossa, scoring a thin line down the center. Blurr licked his lips slowly, averting his gaze from Shockwave’s but not away from him completely. This time, complying with the helpful guidance of Shockwave’s persistent hand on his helm, he went straight for the slick rubber mesh of his valve. 

Opening his mouth nervously, Blurr dragged his glossa vertically upwards, acutely aware of the soft shudder he got in return. Shockwave hummed above him, not unhappily, and he repeated the action, more firmly this time. The taste was acrid, like mid-grade fuel, but thicker. Though Blurr had interfaced with several partners before his ex-superior-turned-‘Con, this particular act was new to him. Bots did not tend to trust their softer bits around his mouth. 

Yet, it was not entirely horrible. Though less intuitive, it certainly was less painful than other intimate tasks he’d be assigned by his captor in the past. 

 Off-lining his optics in embarrassment, Blurr allowed himself to be pulled closer still. Held tighter. He worked diligently around the rim, tonguing the lights there, before darting his glossa back to the center with quick flicks. A coercive push of the claws at his neck and he latched on to the swollen exterior sensory node with his lips. The purr of Shockwave’s cooling fans encouraged him to mouth it harder, rubbing his cheek against what else he could reach. The node glowed a soft violet with epidermal energon, nearly the size of a good spike in his mouth. He was mortified by the way his systems reacted, heat blooming behind his interface panel. 

“Good, good,” Shockwave murmured, also off-lining his optic and leaning back against the wall. Blurr burned with shame, feeling Shockwave relax against his glossa, lubricant drooling down his backside to puddle between them. The air around them vibrated with the collective whirr of cooling fans and engines, Blurr cycling air deeply through his vents. He laved his glossa over the opening, both encouraged and made nervous by his embarrassingly powerful arousal. The heady scent of lubricant mixed with the increasingly tight grip on his helm made glitchy dots swim behind his optics, neural net reduced to mush. 

He pressed his glossa between the tight folds, curling it to stroke the inner walls. Shockwave jolted, then craned his neck forward, supporting himself on one shaking arm, eagerly watching as Blurr devoured him. Blurr worked his glossa as deep as he could (which, given their size disparity, was not far) and wriggled it against the first cluster of sensory nodes he found. Shockwave’s thighs trembled, and he pressed Blurr almost too close, riding his face. 

Assaulted by forces stronger than he could resist, Blurr surrendered himself completely, allowing Shockwave to guide him as he liked. Bowing his head low, Shockwave muttered soft praise, self-control fraying as he drew closer to overload. His valve was so hot it was practically steaming, Blurr’s plating beaded with condensation. He was too far gone now, sloppily mouthing Shockwave as best he could to the off-kilter rhythm of the Decepticon’s grinding. 

Shockwave came, a static bark tearing its way from his vocalizer as he gripped Blurr so tightly his helm dented. A final burst of lubricant sizzled as it stuck Blurr’s faceplates. Neither of them moved, locked in place by the sensation. Little aftershocks of pleasure caused Shockwave to twitch occasionally, hissing. 

Finally, the hum of Shockwave’s cooling engines died, his cycles returning to their normal rate of intake. 

“Good ‘Bot,” he droned, petting the top of Blurr’s back and noting with some subdued glee the way he pushed needily against his servos. Blurr was still running on high, engine roaring. His face was a mess with luminescent liquids, a mixture of Shockwave’s lubricants and his own oral solvent. It dripped sluggishly down his chin and he stared up, jaw agape, too blown to be modest. 

It was almost enough to make Shockwave haul him up to his chest, pressing that poor, frightened spark to his own and fucking him senseless. 

Instead, he smacked his knee into the side of Blurr’s chassis, knocking him to the floor. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”   


End file.
